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Post by Morgeth on Sat Apr 28, 2012 7:16 pm

”Any power drawn from a demon is not a power in itself, but only another step towards dooming those you love, and yourself.
Those who succumb to the lure of the fel should not walk among us, for they are no longer orcs.”

Darlek, Frostwolf shaman.


The day was drawing near its end, its last rays of sunshine beating down upon the orc where she sat. Morgeth peered to the sky, searching in its vastness for any of those spirits that the shaman spoke so warmly of. She had, however, already bitterly concluded that the spirits knew nothing of her troubles, and little would they ever care.

Truth be told, nobody knew of her troubles, not even those supposed to be closest to her. Ties of blood, of love, had dissolved. In this, she knew, she was utterly alone. What evil would keep an orc from sharing her burden with her brothers and sisters, even the one she had chosen to call mate? The answer would indeed be that she owed this to the greatest evil of all; her own fear.

As she sat upon the still warm grass, the small hut behind her back was filled with life. It was crowded by no less than three children. The eldest was Kraag, who had grown into a strong and mindful orc. His younger siblings were Katashka, also known as ”the Loud” and then there was Muzg.

Muzg was Morgeth's youngest son, and was held close to her heart. Perhaps too close, some would argue. She had noticed, early on in Muzg's life, how he had been incapable of keeping up with his twin sister. Where Katashka's energy had seemed never ending, Muzg had become short of breath and eventually his breathing had taken on a wheezing strain.

The child was merely ill, Morgeth had told herself. She had nursed him, paid particular awareness to his state, only to notice how quickly it would deteriorate, would she push him even a little. Eventually she had come to the conclusion that the child had been born with some kind of flaw, one that would not be kindly regarded in the harsh reality of orc society.

It was tradition, after all, to present your mate with the new born soon after its birth, so that he could examine it and judge whether the child was strong enough to be raised to a full grown orc, or should be drowned, sparing it and its kin of the misery of a weakling amongst them. Kozgugore had deemed Muzg worthy of life, but would he now, knowing his son would never grow to be strong, fast or capable of downing his own game?

Fearing that her mate would not show the boy mercy, Morgeth had taken it upon herself to search for a cure. She had sought out both elves and tauren, asking for information and the possibility of a cure. In the end there had gained little but vague theories, concoctions meant to temporarily soothe the young orc, and – in some cases – advice to trust in the wisdom of the spirits. Nothing had paid off.

And now she sat there, alone again, to mull her options. She could not help but remembering what Rargnasha had told her a few weeks back, when they had spoken about past events, where the use of fel had saved his life. ”You know who truly cares about you when they get their hands dirty to save your hide”. She had never hesitated to use all her might to save him back then, but now she hesitated to do the same for her own son?

She had become weak.

Morgeth's eyes darkened at the notion, her hand reaching for the grimoire laid out in front of her. The tips of her fingers touched the aged parchment, upon which demonic words had been scribbled. It was an untapped resource, given to her by Krogon. Next to it was the crystal lens that Groshnakk had bestowed upon her at an entirely different ritual. The last item was the small box, the device, constructed by Mazguul Sharpeye; containing curses powerful enough to translate the demonic tongue.

These items had been given to Morgeth for safekeeping, for decrypting; out of trust. In her hands, orcs believed, these items would do no harm. It had taken her years to reach such a peak with her own kin, to have them stand at her back with their blades drawn, ready to fight alongside a Drag bred lowlife such as herself. It was for the sake of honour that she had tried to rid herself of the taint of the fel, in hopes of a longer life together with her mate and kin.

The marks upon her hands and wrists, once prominently black, had seemingly dulled into a shade of grey. It ha convinced her of her success, of how she had turned from an old path of her life in order to find strength elsewhere. But what if, hidden in this grimoire, there was something that could help her son. Perhaps not a cure, but a sacrifice, a deal to be made. Would she be able to live with herself once Kozgugore had drowned the child, had she known that she had not done everything in her power to save it?

A growl in desperation departed from behind clenched teeth as the young orc picked the three items for the ground, only to bring them inside the hut that had so lovingly been crafted to provide a safe haven and storage place for her children. The wilds and its untempered allure pulled at Kozgugore, drawing him from her on occasion. This was such a day, such a week, and as such she was indeed alone with her plight, and her solution.

She knew he would not approve, and that would be putting it lightly. But this decision was not his to take, and would she reveal anything to her, he would perhaps sooner leave Muzg to the waves, than let her examine every option available. And the option was there, scribbled in a frightful language, right in front of her. As she sat upon the floor of her hut, Morgeth again put the ancient tome in front of her, spreading its ledgers wide.

The translating device would not work without sacrifice. This she knew, and thus Morgeth pulled a small blade from her belt and cut a small wound into the palm of her hand. Any sharp pain seemed dulled by the rush of adrenaline brought forth by her purpose, and as she lowered her blade, the young mother glanced to the side, only to find her eldest soon looking straight at her.

”Bring m' y'brot'er, Kraag. T'en take y'sister out t'play”, she spoke to him, her words grim with the seriousness of the situation. The child simply nodded, dutiful as he was, and soon returned with his two younger siblings. Katashka's smile became an eerie mirror to Muzg's seemingly lethargic state. It was obvious that the two had been playing, not only by their different states of energy, but by the audible wheeze coming from Muzg's lungs.

The strained breathing from her youngest caused Morgeth to grit her teeth, before holding out the unbloodied hand towards him. ”C'mere”, she urged, as Kraag – holding true to what his mother had asked for – turned to bring Katashka outside. Muzg was brought in to sit in his mother's lap, in which he had always found safety. This time would be no different, Morgeth told herself.

Her bloodied fingers reached for and closed around the small box. With a low hiss in anticipation, she then leaned forward, letting her eyes rest upon the demonic verse. At first, there was nothing. No thoughts of realisation entered her mind as her gaze lazily drifted from one row of insanity to the other. It would take moments, perhaps even hours, before their meaning began to become more and more clear. They spoke of no particular events, of no crafty spell to put in use, instead they seemed to channel the raw energy of those places and creatures of old that orcs had done their very best to forget.

The words poured over her, sank deep into her mind. Soon the warlock found that she needed not feast her eyes upon the demonic writings to read them, as they seemed to speak to her – all too softly – in all the corners of her mind. The blood stained fingers pried themselves free of the small box her sister had once made, only to soon envelope the lens that had once served her in channelling her abilities.

Her eyes closed, for she needed them no longer. Power had never been granted to her by careful plans, or perfectly read spells of the known. No, power would always come in chaos. She felt it, within her reach; the ability to reach over the knowledge of a race so unlike her own and pluck to her the parts of use. Her enemies would burn, and her loved ones safely guarded. There was no need for a tribe, or a chieftain, in this. The victory would be hers alone.

A taste so sweet burned over the warlock's tongue as she imagined it; all those moments of glory that she had forsaken for a life in someone else's shadow. She had forgotten what it was like, to wield such destruction. But even amidst such thoughts, she did not fail in hearing the small whimper at her chest.

”Yes”, the warlock hoarsely gasped as she grabbed the young orc and laid him down in front of her. She bent over him, placing the now bloodied lens over his chest. Muzg whimpered in protest, but to this she paid no heed. It was intoxicating to realise that she would give him life. And in exchange for what? Nothing! Nothing would be lost, but the gain would be immense.

In time they would all see that. She would convince them.

She didn't even have to think for her lips to produce words, and even though the language was foreign and guttural, it still rang beautiful to her. The air ran thick with incantation as whatever remaining light, lent to the hut by the moon, seemed now to be snuffed out. The child's whimpers grew into a soft crying as his mother's trembling fingers painted strange symbols over his now cold body.

And then, finally, Muzg screamed. The pitch in his wail, pure of any ailment – of any strain – was a victory almost too great for the warlock to comprehend. His screaming continued, mirrored by her victorious laughter as she felt his healthy, cured lungs draw breath underneath her shaking, black-tainted hand.

The warlock's eyes opened, wanting to feast upon the sight of her healthy son. Instead they met with the image of a bloodied, young orc pinned to the ground. Her smile faded as she heard the tang of terror within his scream, and saw the raw fear within his gaze. His fear of her.

Before she could draw breath to hush him, to soothe him, to be more a mother than what she was now, Morgeth felt a foot connect with the mid section of her body, pushing her off the screaming child and sending her back first into a wall.

.. to be continued


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Re: Descent

Post by Valerias on Sun Apr 29, 2012 6:57 am

I was hanging on every word. This looks as it's going to be... dramatic o.o

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Re: Descent

Post by Kozgugore Feraleye on Sun Apr 29, 2012 7:04 am

Moments earlier...

The sun had long set outside, and a weary wolf and rider return from a long journey to a far-off settlement. The wolf-masked, male orc slouches down from the skulking beast's back, longing for the warmth that he knows resides inside the hut he once built himself. He pays brief attention to the two children that are playing outside, as well as the only dimly lit interior of the hut. Not a very usual sight to come back to, but he's nonetheless glad to return to their one sanctity on this earth.

Normally, the orc enters the hut with a relieved sigh, glad to be home to the warmth of mate and love of children. This time however, his eyes lift, initially in surprise, at the sight of Morgeth leaning over the helpless child. What's surprise at first, is soon replaced by sheer anger. The influences of the fel can be seen coursing all around her, causing the orc to act without a moment of hesitation. He rushes forward, and with a kick hard enough to knock her off of her own child, he sends his own mate down against the ground. Normally, he would have first looked if she was unharmed herself, but this time around, he bends over to Muzg instead, lifting the wailing child into his arms as he sends an infuriated glare to Morgeth.

"What in the Nether do you think you're doing?! Dealing with the black arts, on our own children?! Are you out of your damn mind?!!" He shouts at her, screaming over the top of his lungs to exceed the volume of the crying child. Morgeth, however, seems unimpressed by the display. Instead, she lifts her black streaked hands, eager to grasp for the child. It is her own, after all, and she would not have him fear her. Her raspy breathes are excited, exhausted and those blue eyes are now widened. "G-give 'im t'm'. I.. I've cured 'im." She laughs, exhilarated at her own victory in curing the child of its illness. She drags a hand over her forehead, muddling an already disturbing visage with blood of her own. Hopefully her own, at least. "I did 't... I -saved- 'im." Her eyes reach Kozgugore's features, staring into them as Morgeth can't help but marvel at herself.

He, however, is no longer inclined to hand over her own child any more. Not even when she reaches out for it. In fact, he takes a step back from her, lifting an arm to shield the child from its own mother as he grits his teeth together, hissing back to the she-orc. "You had better have a damned good reason for what you be up to, orc!" He eyes her down, no longer recognising his own mate in the sight of all the blood, the black, demonic stains and just the very scent of fel magic about her. Is this his own mate still? The way he looks at her, she's more so regarded as a warlock instead. Untrustworthy, vile and hated. "No. In fact, choke on whatever reason you may have. You promised you'd lay off this magic of yours. On our -own- children, no less! Do you want to forsake this family, orc?!"

The warlock's eyes dart between the grim features of the snarling orc, and the crying child. For one sickly moment she can't help but hate them both for doing this for her; for making her seem so weak when she just performed something great. As the moment seems to pass, Morgeth's hands rise anew to stretch bloodied, partially black fingers towards Kozgugore. "Can y'nae see?! 'e was ill, an' I 'elped 'im - all t'is power - 'twas meant f'somethin' good. I -did- tha'!" She gestures towards Muzg, which might not be the best of statements, considering the state of the wailing child. "Y'can'ne deny m' th'right t'defend w'at be mine!"

In the entrance of the hut, two children, being Kraag and Katashka, watch the spectacle with big eyes. Noticing them from the corner of his eyes, Kozgugore gives them a brief stare, realising the shame that is brought upon both their parents, to display such a sight in front of their own eyes. He looks back to Morgeth, growling quietly. "Ill? The only orc that be ill here be you, Morgeth. I don't even know if it be truly you any longer."

The warlock now gets to her feet, moving in closer to the two, which in turn causes the chieftain to take another few steps out of her way, away from her dark reach. He growls to her like an intimidated beast does to an approaching prey. "You promised! You wouldn't bring any of this damnable magic of yours into this hut or in front of our children!"

"'e was sick! Bu' y'would'nae know, would y'?! I -saved- 'im from y'!" Despite Kozgugore's best efforts, the warlock is soon upon him, snarling in anger as she begins to struggle for the child, trying to claw him out of her mate's hands. Muzg, caught in the middle of this, is simply crying out in sheer terror in the meantime. Before anyone can gain the upper hand, Kozgugore aims the back of his hand upon the female's cheek, sending her backwards with a angered sneer. As she stumbles backwards, Kozgugore reaches out a hand to the two children by the door, motioning both towards him, to find refuge behind their father's hulking visage, which is still aimed towards Morgeth.

"You be disgracing us both in front of our children. -Leave-." He snarls at his own mate, stepping to the side as he points to the opening of the hut. Blue eyes stare accusingly through a mess of black hair, before they slowly turn to Kraag, who has folded his sister's face into his own chest, to keep her from seeing what's going on. Looking back to Kozgugore, Morgeth suddenly begins to move outside. A last hiss is heard from her, as she moves past the father and his frightened child. "I saved 'im."

Following her every movement, Kozgugore looks after her, leaving Muzg to rest with his two siblings as the chieftain motions himself towards the entrance to the hut, looking after Morgeth as she sets foot outside. "Come back when you be the mate I have grown to love again. Our children deserve better than -this-."

The chieftain's final words appear to scorn her deeply, causing her to whip around with a ferocious snarl, and yelling back towards the hut. "I be more a mate, more a mot'er, t'an y'will EVER be a fat'er!" she cries out, her eyes carrying an almost otherworldly glint to it as if she no longer seems in control of her own body any longer. "Y'know nothin', y'jus' come an' go as y'pleace, wantin' a meal or a fuck along th'way! An' now y'try t'claim m'own children from m'?! M'own flesh an' -blood-?! Y'be NOTHIN', Feraleye! Jus' an ol' excuse o' an orc!"

In utter silence, Kozgugore regards the orc he considered his mate once. But this can't possibly be the same orc. It's with a deep sense of pain as well as sheer anger that he steps towards her, lifting a hand into her direction as his cold voice cuts through the dark, bitter air. "Get out of my sight. And don't you -dare- return until you rid yourself of those damned demons of yours." Dark eyes regard her, sending her a last warning. "Leave us."

"Y'll beg m't'come back," she ensures him, her dark eyes narrowing to mere slivers. "Once y'realise 'ow wrong y'be, y'will... -beg-." The warlock turns, stumbling slightly on her feet, as she begins to wander off towards the nearby woods. It's a painful sight to regard for the chieftain, even if he brought it upon her by himself. While she moves away from the one place they have both regarded as the safest place on this world for the past years, he moves back inside to gaze upon the frightened children, hissing to himself. "Perhaps. But I will beg to the mate I know. Not to this."

Kozgugore Feraleye

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Re: Descent

Post by Ledgic on Sun Apr 29, 2012 7:18 am

Going to be paying plenty of attention to this section again :p Brilliant writing.

"It's now very common to hear people say 'I'm rather offended by that'. As if that gives them certain rights; It's actually nothing more... It's simply a whine. It's no more than a whine. 'I find that offensive', it has no meaning, it has no purpose, it has no right to be respected as a phrase. 'I am offended by that', well so fucking what?" - Stephen Fry


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Re: Descent

Post by Grim on Sun Apr 29, 2012 9:03 am

Exciting stuff!

[H] Warseer Grim Stonepaw - Orc - Battle Shaman and Chieftain of the Blood Wolf Clan
[H] Brok Frostfeud - Orc - Monk and Prospect of the Blood Wolf Clan
[H] Mayana - Orc - Rogue and spy for the Blood Wolf Clan
[H] Guk Swordshatter - Orc - Illusionist, murderer and psychopathic bitch

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Re: Descent

Post by Odgan / Keag on Mon May 07, 2012 3:19 pm

Ehehehehe. Morgeth got punted-.. *Cough.* I mean. Awesome writing!
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Re: Descent

Post by Thygore on Mon May 07, 2012 11:56 pm

Interesting concept, indeed.

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Re: Descent

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